31

Liam's body lies motionless in my grasp, his breaths jagged and irregular. The heat of his blood covers my hands, saturating the material of my garments, dense and relentless. He is passing away. Deceasing.

And I possess the ability to halt it.

Yet as I gaze at him—at the man who previously possessed my heart only to break it irreparably—I hesitate.

The tiny bottle of glimmering fluid seems incredibly heavy in my hand, its heft much more than just glass and medicine. The counteracting remedy. The remedy. The sole thing capable of counteracting any toxin Lisa infused into that blade.

If I provide this to him, he will survive.

If I fail to act, he will perish.

And perhaps… perhaps that would constitute justice.

My chest constricts, past injuries seeping into the now. I recall the evening he released me. The evening he prioritized commitment instead of me. I recall the torment of exile, the years of suffering, the nights spent in solitude accompanied solely by the specters of betrayal. I had reconstructed myself from the remnants of his decisions.

Now, destiny has brought him to me—fractured, helpless, biding his time.

For the first time, he is completely at my mercy.

The decision ought to be simple.

However—

“Mother.”

A tiny, quivering voice breaks through the tempest within me.

I raise my gaze, and there they are.

My trio of children.

Three tiny figures, eyes wide open, faces smeared with grime and the leftovers of a conflict they were never meant to see. Yet, it's not the fear in their faces that tightens my heart—it's something much more disturbing.

Expectation.

"He's our dad." My son moves ahead, his tiny hands clenched into fists by his sides, his voice

more powerful than I anticipated. "Make sure he stays alive."

The request strikes me like a knife to my heart.

I look back at Liam. His complexion is white, his breathing light. The toxin is encroaching rapidly.

I can allow him to leave.

I can allow destiny to complete what it began.

However, my kids—our kids—are observing.

And if I allow their father to die here, if I decide that while they are right in front of me, what does that make me?

I grip my jaw tightly enough that it hurts.

I despise him for forcing me to decide.

I despise him for abandoning me so long ago, for shattering me, for making me strong in ways I shouldn't have had to be.

However, my affection for my children surpasses my dislike for him.

Thus, with trembling fingers, I remove the cork from the vial and bring it to his lips.

"Cursed be you," I murmur, my voice shaking with an abundance of feelings I cannot identify. “Curse you for forcing me to do this.”

I pour the liquid into his mouth, making him gulp it down.

As the final drop vanishes, the burden of my choice hits me hard. I rescued him. I decided to rescue him.

And I’m uncertain if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for it.

The parchment shivers slightly in my grasp, although I can't tell if it's due to the chill or the significance of the words.

"The reality is concealed." "Probe further."

The cloaked figure is missing, disappeared as though they never existed at all. Yet their caution remains, tightening around my ribs like a clamp.

I need to enter.

I need to take a break, get ready for the battle ahead, concentrate on the conflict that will shape my future.

Yet here I remain paralyzed under the soft light of the moon, my thoughts whirling, the fragments moving too quickly for me to understand.

Lisa's battle with Liam isn't solely focused on dominance.

It always wasn't.

I recall the files I discovered, the concealed execution orders, the name I scarcely managed to glimpse before I escaped the records room.

I reflect on how Lisa has consistently despised me, not merely as Liam's friend, nor just as a challenge to her authority—

Yet as something greater.

As an object that is aged.

And for the initial time, I ponder—

Did she murder my parents due to their disloyalty to the throne?

Or did she eliminate them because they possessed knowledge she wished to keep hidden?

A chill runs down my back, yet I dismiss it, compelling my thoughts to align. This is not the time for this now. I battle tomorrow. And I must stay concentrated.

I pivot abruptly, making my way to my room.

However, I don't get very far.

Since Liam is anticipating my arrival.

The Admission

He rests against the stone railing by the doorway to my rooms, his stance rigid, his face partially concealed in shadow. He still appears fatigued, still overly pale, the poison having taken too much from him.

However, he is present.

Observing me.

Awaiting.

I halt a short distance away, crumpling the note in my hand. "What is it that you want, Liam?"

His jaw clenches. "You ought not to be out here by yourself."

I released a quick breath, nodding my head. “You cannot do this.” "Not at this moment."

He remains still, doesn’t avert his gaze. "What should I do?"

"Act as if you care." The words escape my lips before I can hold them back, and they’re more severe than I mean.

Liam recoils—if only a little—but it’s sufficient.

I look away before he has a chance to reply, grabbing the door handle. However, just as I'm about to push it open, his voice halts me.

"I never required your pardon."

I become motionless.

His voice is raspy, worn out from fatigue, from all the things we’ve left unspoken.

"I required your presence."

Something breaks within me.

Gradually, I rotate, my hand firmly holding the doorframe as if it’s the sole thing supporting me.

He observes me, his gaze inscrutable, a raw and painful emotion flashing in their depths. His fingers move restlessly by his sides, as if he desires to touch me but realizes he ought not to.

I gulp nervously. “That does not alter what occurred.”

“I’m aware.” His voice is gentler now. “Yet I still required you.”

I breathe out gently, my heart pounding against my chest. I ought to shove him aside. I ought to step inside, shut the door, act as though this dialogue never occurred.

However, I do not.

Instead, I move closer—just a single step, just enough for our proximity to increase—and I murmur the sole truth I have remaining to share.

"This does not imply that I excuse you."

Liam’s grip weakly tightens around my wrist. Not to keep me there, not to prevent me from departing—

Simply to experience.

It seems like he’s scared that if he relaxes his grip, I’ll vanish once more.

Perhaps I will.

But not this evening.

Since tomorrow, all will be different.